I blogged once before about The Pub With No Name. It used to be called The White Horse (still is on maps), but the road was diverted some years ago and the sign board removed (one story is that it disappeared in a gale. Who knows?) It's been known locally as the pub with no name since. The sign post (with no name on it) is still near the main road, but there are no direction signs up the country lane or along the unmade track that eventually leads to the door. It's a sort of local joke.
Trust me then last week to choose an evening with thick fog to meet friends there for a meal. After passing the turn-off, completing a three-point turn on a main road with ditches and almost zero visibility, I then crawled along the lanes, trying one then the other, until I found the car park. I guessed that the pub must therefore be somewhere nearby. You can tell it's popular by the number of cars in the car park and you can tell the food's good by the number of expensive cars! The pub is a 17th century wayside inn, with a fine kitchen and great local beer, and is popular with walkers and diners alike.
Although we were seriously late, our friends turned up just after us looking shell-shocked and relieved at the same time, having had similar experiences in the fog.
We were half-guests. Our friends had won a pair of tickets in a raffle that I had organised and so had invited us along to share the prize and we split the remaining bill.
It was well worth the difficult journey. Here's the bar.
The drinker posed for me! And this is one of the dining rooms.
A good evening was had by all, especially by us the half-guests.